


Metal and Sepia

by Nyxelestia



Series: Abandoned or Hiatus [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Blow Jobs, Bribery, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Prohibition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxelestia/pseuds/Nyxelestia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[This work is currently on hiatus/abandoned.]</p>
<p>Police Captain Steve Rogers comes to the Iron Man Speak Easy to talk business with its notorious owner, Tony Stark - and get his weekly bonus a little early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metal and Sepia

**Author's Note:**

> I originally signed up for the cap_ironman reverse bang a couple years ago. I had to drop out. I still had some clippets (written for the second fanart from [here](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/50566560342/i-signed-up-for-the-capiron-man-reverse-big-bang)), so here's the beginning/first chapter, which is the only part that can stand on its own.

~*~

Cigarette smoke wrapped around Steve like a sleepy lover as he descended three staircases into the main bar of the Iron Man speakeasy.

He stood off to the side from the entrance for a moment and took stock of the club. The right side was dominated by a two-tiered stage, the smaller and higher stage holding up the night’s band while the larger and lower one was filled with dancers in red and gold dresses accented with bluish-white glass jewelry and feathers. The center of the floor was taken up by people dancing, suits and flappers who left respectable society at the door to enjoy the night away. Off to the left were tables and booths full of people sipping at the types of drinks Steve should really be arresting them for, cigarette girls roaming around and handing out cigars and smiles with equal indiscretion. The seats were so full, Steve just hoped none of the dancing clubgoers got tired anytime soon. Looking over the guests, Steve could recognize the drinkers as much from the newspaper society pages as from suspect pin-ups filling up the walls back at headquarters.

But Steve wasn’t interested in any of them, at least not right now. Instead, Steve turned to this immediate left and went up the steps to the mezzanine. Smaller tables sat by the railing and the bar was pushed a bit to the back – far enough from the edge to hide the people seated below and most of the dance floor, but still close enough to see the stage. The bar was full of businessmen, politicians, society wives, and – most importantly – the owner this establishment.

There at the dead center of the bar was the owner of the Iron Man Club, Tony Stark.

As usual, he was surrounded by people, businessmen and pretty girls alike all fawning over him. He leaned back against the bar – _his_ bar – dressed impeccably in a dark, four-button waistcoat with a deep red tie, white sleeves rolled up and pants cut sharp enough to slice through the metal of his moniker. His hair was slicked back save for a few strands dangling over his forehead, as contrary as the man himself.

“…ran down the side of the mountain, chasing after me and screaming about kicking my hiney to high hell and back as soon as he caught me, while I was just merrily sliding on, getting mud all over myself and the metal framework…”

Stark was chattering on like always. And like always, when Steve appeared in front of him, arms crossed, he continued on, pointedly ignoring Steve even as his admirers started to glance nervously at the big man standing there glaring at the object of their affections.

But he didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Stark reached the end of the story, Steve said pointedly, “We are going to have a word. In private.”

“Oh _are_ we, Captain?” Stark asked, finally deigning to acknowledge Steve’s existence. He took a sip from the drink in his hands – probably the only drink in this establishment that wasn’t illegal. Even the twirl of the tumbler was just this side of condescending, the ice clinking around inside like rusted bells.

“Yes,” Steve said tersely, before immediately softening and turning a gentle but firm look on the ladies and gentlemen present. “I really am sorry, but this is quite urgent.”

They looked hesitant. Stark, though-

Despite the side business and what he liked to do in his freetime, Stark was every inch the genius the newspapers called him and then some. He took one long look at Steve, eyes skimming over his tense shoulders and the skin being stretched white over the knuckles of his clenched fists, and said, “What can I do you for, g-man?”

That was enough to get all the people surrounding him to scatter quickly. Soon, there was nearly half a dozen feet between them and the people around them, the only other person nearby being Tony’s leading barman.

Stark opened his mouth to speak.

“Not here,” Steve said, jerking his head to the area behind the bar.

“Sure thing,” Stark said. He drained his drink – Steve wondered whether it was tea or apple juice tonight – and almost-slammed it down on the bar. He slid it down to the barman and said to him, “Hold the fort down for me, Rhodey!”

The protective barman narrowed his eyes at Steve like he always did, and said, “Sure thing, Tones,” like he also always did.

The two men went around the bar and through a small door that led to the storeroom for the bar. Rather than pay attention to any of the wares, they turned their attention to the wall on the left behind the door, blank save for a small painting of a smoking gun, one of many small paintings decorating the Iron Man. Stark slid the painting to the side to reveal a slot that looked like it was for coins.

It wasn’t.

Stark pulled out a small pocket watch. He twisted the two halves against each other – if there even was a hinge, it was little more than decoration – before opening it. Instead of a clock face, it looked to be directly revealing the clockwork, which Stark picked out, a small disc of what was probably some of the most intricate mechanic work in New York City.

Steve had given up on not being impressed a long time ago. He just focused on making sure Stark didn’t see just how impressed Steve really was.

Stark slid the flat clockwork into the slot half way, then twisted it so the external half was perpendicular to the slot. The wall sunk inwards, and then swung into what looked and sometimes acted like a tiny closet – one which was also the furthest thing from what it seemed. Stark un-twisted the mechanism and pulled it out before he went in, Steve right behind him.

After the door was closed, the space was intimate, filing cabinets taking up most of the room in the tiny ‘closet’ – or elevator, depending on how one looked at it. The dim lighting certainly didn’t help, and neither did the slightly lascivious twist to Stark’s hips as he turned in place to face Steve.

He reached up to the small lamp hanging from the ceiling and tugged it in a peculiar pattern that seemed to change every time Steve saw it. The floor seemed to grind beneath Steve’s feet and his stomach dropped just a little as they went up, but Stark paid no mind to it, focused only on fixing up his pocket watch and putting it back to rights.

Once they stopped, the little lamp went out and a small slit of light appeared on the only empty wall, the one that served as the door. It was blocked momentarily as Stark remembered to glance through it, before he stepped back. The sound of rustling sleeves and unlocking clicks filled the tiny room, then the entire wall swung forward.

Steve shut his eyes, past experiences letting him take a few steps forward blindly, guided by the sound of the crackling fire, the hum of Stark’s electric lights, and the feel of the richly panelled floors beneath Steve’s ‘far too practical for this joint, captain’ shoes.

He opened his eyes, Stark’s brightly lit office not leaving him blinking like a fool this time. He turned around just in time to see part of the wall swing back into place. The seams were invisible against the backdrop of wall panels and a portrait of Howard Stark.

“Drink?” Stark asked, heading to a cabinet in the corner. Through the glass doors, Steve could see several more perfectly legal drinks, but he only shook his head wryly when the entire front half of the cabinet swung forward on an invisible hinge to reveal narrow, hidden shelves behind it.

These were the drinks that could get Stark arrested – not that Steve was really planning to do so any time soon.

Stark pulled out two crystal tumblers from the bottom portion of the cabinet, and Steve turned away from the sound of scotch that probably cost more than his rent for this month being poured into glasses that probably cost as much as his outfit.

The office was very much a rich man’s workplace and abode. Bookshelves, cabinets, and files lined the walls. There was a small table off to the side with several chairs around it for quiet meetings, a couch and some sofas in the corner, with a coffee table in the middle of them all covered in various magazines and newspapers. The large mahogany desk was covered in piles of papers, charts, and schematics, a cluttered desk set taking up center place with a pen and what looked to be some old machinery sketches on top of it.

It looked like a crazy businessman and inventor was using this office – and had just stepped out, only for a moment, could be coming back any time. One didn’t become a technology tycoon without burning the midnight oil every now and then, after all. Who cared if the hours always seemed to coincide with peak drinking and clubbing hours? Or that his activity seemed to have a rather specific relationship to Iron Man activity?

As long as Stark paid up his bribes on time, Steve sure as hell didn’t.

“So,” Stark said. Steve turned and accepted the glass from Stark, enjoying the illicit drink as Stark moved past Steve to sit at the sofa. “I meant what I said down there – what can I do for you this fine evening? You usually wouldn’t come until tomorrow night.”

“There’s been unusual activity down by the docks,” Steve said. “We want to know how long you thought you could keep it from us-”

“What in the hell…?” Stark asked, his mechanic’s mouth momentarily breaking his smooth club-owner demeanor. “I updated your precinct on our new shipping pattern months ago-”

“And the ones that changed three weeks ago?” Steve asked.

“…what?” Tony asked. “We haven’t changed since the last time-”

“Bullshit, Stark,” Steve said.

“Are you talking about the exports that went out last week?”

"No, I mean the shipments that went out last night."

Stark frowned. "My aboveboard exports? I haven't heard anything, but if there was some delay-"

"Judging by who was working there and how, I doubt these were aboveboard," Steve said sternly.

"Well, then, I don't know what to tell you. The only things I send out for the Iron Man are the occasional gold bars and hot cars, and neither of them get shipped with general cargo."

"Then what were you sending last night? And what's so interesting in Germany?"

"…where?!" Stark asked, his empty glass slamming down in surprise.

“Germany,” Steve repeated, trying not to let his uncertainty show.

Stark’s frown deepened, his goatee bending like hastily thrown sheets as he said, “We don’t have anything to do with Germany. At most, France or Britain, though most of the time we just trade down the coast.”

“Well, you shipped something to Germany last night, and we want to know what.”

“I don’t ship anything to Germany, either for my club or my business,” Stark said lowly.

“Oh yeah? Then why were a bunch of Russians loading nearly two dozen crates from one of your warehouses into a boat marked for Germany?” Steve demanding.

“That is impossible,” Stark said. “You had to have been seeing things, either you mistook my dock for a neighboring one-”

“Do you really think I’m that stupid, Stark?”

“Right now? Yes. You’re standing here accusing me of something that is just not possible, what else do you expect.” Stark poured himself another glass and drank it much faster than anything that expensive probably deserved.

Steve breathed in, then out sharply through his nose. “Well, I know what I saw. The boat is still there, and near as we can tell it will be there for a few more days. I can take you there right now and show you.”

Stark grimaced. “Ugh, and you would, wouldn’t you?”

Steve just looked at him.

The man set down the bottle and the drink, and with a sigh he said, “And here I’d been hoping you just wanted your weekly bonus from me a little early.”

“The night’s still young,” Steve deadpanned.

Except this was Stark, so by the time he realized it was exactly the wrong thing to say, Stark was already striding towards him with a luscious glint in his eyes and his lips curling smugly in something distinctly close to triumph.

There was no way they had time for this.

“Always happy to oblige, Captain,” Stark said, flowing gracefully to his knees in front of Steve, and it didn’t matter what they didn’t have time for, there was no way Steve could say no, now.

“I’ve noticed,” Steve said dryly, gripping the desk-edge as Stark undid his pants. He tried desperately to pretend he had something resembling control over himself, if not the situation. He hissed a little as the air hit his bare cock. “You really looooohh-”

Steve’s breath stalled out to a groan as the richest genius in New York City swallowed the head of his cock. His fingernails dug into the rich wood of the underside of the desk as he watched Stark move back up Steve’s cock and then down again.

“You…will be…the death…of me…” Steve said, his words punctuating every bob of Stark’s head. “Damn us both to hell.”

Stark paused to look up at Steve. Sin glinted in his eyes, making up for the fact his lips were too stretched around Steve’s dick to grin at him, or even so much as hint as a smile.

Steve almost-thrusted his hips pointedly, and Stark rolled his eyes but re-commenced, taking Steve in deeper with every downward bob of his head.

The Stark’s entire torso was shivering as he moved, and Steve realized the man was hard, the bulge in his pants visible even from Steve’s angle whenever Stark’s head moved back. Steve didn’t consider himself to be the vindictive type, but that didn’t stop him from sliding his left leg forward and brushing his shin against Stark’s hardness. And he still grinned when Stark bucked at the mild pressure, hips snapping forward only to find nothing as Steve had already slid his leg back. Stark glared up at Steve, who kept on grinning and released the desk to grab Stark’s wrists before the man could reach down, himself.

Stark pulled off, and Steve hissed as the spit on his dick cooled in the open air.

“Cheeky bastard,” Steve said through a half-clenched jaw.

“Funny,” Stark said, raising an eyebrow at Steve’s hands wrapped around his wrists. “I was about to say the same of you.”

Stark pulled at Steve’s grip, and Steve was about to pointedly tighten his hold before he realized Stark was reaching for Steve’s cock, not his own.

Steve let go, instead reaching down to hold onto Stark’s shoulders, squeezing tightly as Stark started to play with Steve, far-too-clever fingers running over Steve’s cock teasingly before he reached for Steve’s balls with one hand, the other one gently holding onto the root of Steve’s dick.

Stark swallowed Steve’s cock at the same time as he rolled Steve’s balls, and Steve groaned loudly. His voice trailed off into references to his Lord and Savior that would have guaranteed his ticket to hell if Stark hadn’t already been ensuring Steve’s passage there for the last six months they’ve been doing this.

He saw the smugness in Stark’s eyes, and rather than try to do anything about it, Steve just leaned his head back, his hat falling off and landing on the desk behind him as he let the sensation wash over him.

“Your mouth should be illegal,” Steve muttered. Stark chuckled, the vibrations going down Steve’s cock and straight to his balls. “Come to think of it-”

And then Stark gave a particularly strong suck right then and Steve was gone.

Steve would like to say his head rolled back and he shut his eyes as his climax broke upon him like a storm. Unfortunately, it was Stark’s mouth on his dick, and Stark’s eyes looking up at him, and the wonderfully dangerous thing about Stark was how damn easy it was to get lost in him.

Stark’s lips were wrapped tightly around Steve, and Steve’s cock was so far down, he was pretty sure Stark wasn’t even swallowing his spunk, just letting it fall deep inside him, like his very core was Steve’s territory to mark.

No one could own Tony Stark, but that didn’t stop Steve from wanting to try.

He gasped as the last of his release spilled into Stark, and he might actually have dented the desk under his grip. He just stared with a watch-tight jaw as Stark lowered his gaze, slowly pulling himself off Steve and rocking back on his heels in victory before looking back up at Steve again.

The man was still hard.

“That was delightful,” Stark said, and the man was gasping himself, barely suppressing some coughing that always came with blowing a big guy like Steve. “I’m surprised you didn’t just start fucking my face, to be honest. Getting something else on the side somewhere, Captain Rogers?”

Steve glared at the man as reached down to right himself, tucking his dick back into his pants and doing them up again.

“I hope you have someone around to take care of the club for you,” Steve said. “Because you’re right, I would take you down to the docks right now, and in fact – I will.”

The mirth fell off Stark’s face like a badly fitted opera mask. “What?!”

Steve crossed his arms.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Rogers,” Stark said. “But I’ve got a lot to manage right now, so while I understand the urgency, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait-”

“-long enough for you to cover-up what you’re doing?” Steve asked. He snorted and shook his head. “I’m not that foolish, Stark. You come with me now, or I call down all my colleagues and my boss on this club.”

“And they won’t find anything in time before my next bribes get through,” Stark shot back.

“No, but I imagine even the search would be bad for your business,” Steve said. “Both your legitimate one and the one down below.”

Stark pursed his lips. “Fine – at least give me a minute to take care of myself.” He gestured down to the flagging-but-still-prominent bulge in his pants.

Steve thought about what Stark could do, then uncrossed his arms and leaned back. “Okay, then – go ahead.”

Stark raised a surprised eyebrow. “What, you’re actually going to _stay_?”

“I am not leaving you alone, Stark. I have no doubts you can jerk yourself off while calling your workers to abort whatever you’re up to.”

He was hoping to see a little panic or worry, but instead Stark smirked again and, of all things, stood up. Before Steve could even react, Stark’s entire body was pressed against him, the man’s sinful lips – the ones that had just been wrapped around his dick, dear god – whispering in his ear,

“Maybe you could give me a hand…keep a closer eye on me,” Stark said, rolling his hips against Steve’s, and once was bad enough but he was not coming another time, not tonight.

Steve pushed Stark away. “Maybe a few ice-cubes down your drawers will help.”

Stark rolled his eyes, obligingly stepping away from Steve and instead rounding his desk, collapsing into his chair and blithely undoing his own pants, and Steve wasn’t sure he could’ve looked away with a gun to his head when Stark finally pulled his cock out.

“Fine then, watch me,” Stark said. “Maybe you’ll need a few ice-cubes yourself.”

Steve nearly did.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Compliments or concrit, please tell me what you think! ^_^


End file.
